Throughout your career, one theme keeps emerging, creating opportunities for women to lead. Whether through governance programmes, mentoring young women, supporting women's political participation or strengthening gender-responsive institutions, why has women's leadership become such a defining part of your work?

When I look back on my career, the moments I treasure most are when I see the women whose confidence has quietly grown over time. I have had the privilege of mentoring young women, supported aspiring political leaders and helped institutions become more responsive to gender equality. Watching a woman speak up for the first time, influence an important decision or finally believe that she deserves a seat at the table is incredibly rewarding. It always takes me back to the girls I grew up with, whose dreams were often shaped or limited by what society expected of them. Every woman who discovers her voice reminds me that those stories do not have to define our future.

That is why my work does not end when I leave the office. I continue to mentor young women on leadership, civic participation, gender equality, sexual and reproductive health and rights, and preventing gender-based violence. I believe leadership begins long before someone holds public office or receives a title. It begins the moment a young woman realises that her voice matters, that her dreams are worth pursuing and that she has every right to lead. If I can help even one young woman believe that about herself, then I know I am contributing to a future where many more women will not only take their place at the table but help shape the decisions that matter.

Much of your work is about building trust. Can you share a moment that has stayed with you?

There is one experience that I know I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

We had spent the entire afternoon in a remote community during one of our Mobile Legal Aid Clinics, talking about legal rights and the support available to survivors of gender-based violence. The room had been full. Women listened carefully, nodding quietly, but very few spoke. When the session ended, plastic chairs scraped across the floor as people slowly drifted outside. Conversations faded. I was walking back towards my lodge when I noticed a woman making her way towards me.

She looked around every few steps, almost as if she was checking whether anyone was watching.

When she reached me, she didn't say much.

She simply placed a small folded piece of paper into my hand.

It had only one thing written on it.

Her phone number.

Later, I discovered why she had remained silent throughout the discussion. She was terrified that if her abusive partner found out she had spoken publicly, the violence would become worse.

Working closely with our legal aid partners, we were able to connect her with confidential legal support and protection services. Over time, she found the courage to leave the abusive relationship, pursue justice and begin rebuilding her life.

That day has stayed with me ever since.

It reminded me that access to justice doesn't always begin inside a courtroom.

Sometimes it begins with creating an environment where someone feels safe enough to whisper, "I need help."

Whenever conversations become too focused on policies and procedures, I think about her. She reminds me who this work is really for.

When you think about the future of governance in The Gambia, what keeps you awake at night? What worries you most, but equally, what gives you hope?

I think about this more often than people might imagine. What worries me most is not one single event, but complacency. Democracy has to be continuously nurtured. The progress The Gambia has made should never be taken for granted, because public trust is fragile, it can quickly be eroded if institutions stop delivering, if misinformation spreads unchecked, or if women and young people continue to face barriers to meaningful participation.

I also think a lot about rural communities. Governance reforms should not only be felt in urban areas. Every Gambian, regardless of where they live, deserves equal access to justice, accountable institutions, and opportunities to take part in decisions that affect their lives.

Despite those concerns, I remain hopeful. Every day I see young people asking difficult questions, women stepping into leadership, and communities demanding accountability instead of accepting silence. Progress may not always be fast, but it is happening, and that gives me confidence that our best chapters are still ahead of us.

As the conversation ends, there is a brief silence in the room.

Not uncomfortable. Just full.

Fatima sits for a moment, as if letting the weight of the stories settle before anything else is said. The hum of the air conditioner fills the space between us.

Then she looks back with a quiet certainty.

“People just want to be heard,” she says softly, almost as if speaking to herself rather than to me.

And in that moment, it feels like the truest definition of governance we have heard all day.

Because when institutions listen, respond to what has been said and then systems begin to work. And when people are heard, governance becomes real